


God Bless the Boy Scouts

by calrissian18



Series: Teen Wolf Coda [11]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (I Have No Idea How or Why - Shut up), According to Em I'm 'Going Fluffy', Age Difference, Based on the Events of 4x09, Coda, Episode Related, If I Am Then The Denial is Deeeeep, M/M, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 23:36:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2169636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calrissian18/pseuds/calrissian18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“<i>You</i> are a boy scout.”  It was almost an accusation.</p><p>Parrish seemed to pick up on that and shrugged it off with a smile.  “There are worse things to be.”  He glanced away, laughed in supremely unamused fashion.  “Like whatever the hell I actually am.”</p><p> </p><p>4.09 Coda - because it was there, okay?  Because it was <i>there</i>.  (If you squint, and ship Stilish hard enough and wanted it badly enough, it was there.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	God Bless the Boy Scouts

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a day late, I _know_! Tumblr drinking games took precedence, you can't judge that. Don't try. *shakes head solemnly*
> 
> Thank you so much to [andcanyoukneelbeforetheking](http://andcanyoukneelbeforetheking.tumblr.com/) for helping me pick between Stilish and Sterek and a weird combination of the two for my coda. You're still lovely, you! *smacks kiss*

Meredith offered one more slash of a smile, dark and ominous on her pale face, her neck tilted at that awkward angle before sinking back into the shadows.

Lydia took a loud, rattling breath in the silence she left behind.

The cop in Parrish had him swinging forward, rounding the corner after her with his weapon still drawn.  As expected, he returned barely a minute later, shaking his head.

A girl didn’t fake her own death and pop up looking to make it a sure thing days later, that was just plain old civilian common sense.  Stiles scratched at his eyebrow with his thumbnail and pointed to the spot where she’d disappeared.  “Well, she seems a lot more coherent.”  He grimaced, not meeting anyone’s eyes.  “And  _evil_ ,” he added unnecessarily.

Parrish ignored him, looking to Lydia, brows knitted in concern.  “Lydia?”

Lydia was quivering as she found her feet gracelessly.  She was already shaking her head.  “I’m fine,” she said, lip trembling.  She sniffed, pulled it together and was untouchable in an instant.  “I need to get home.” 

Parrish shot a look at Stiles, holstering his weapon.  “Lydia, just wait.”  He held up a hand like she was an animal that might spook.  “I can give you a ride, I can—”

She shook her head more insistently now.  “No, I have to go now.”  She looked like a prom queen refusing a ride from a chess club nerd rather than a victim turning down a police escort.  Stiles couldn’t help the way his lips twitched up a little at the reappearance of the Lydia Martin who took no prisoners, who came to school with her throat bare to  _show off_  her war wounds, who stepped on those who slowed her down with Manolos on her feet that matched her car’s paint job that week.  She’d lost a bit of backbone since he’d known her and it was nice to see her get that back, however slightly.  “I have to—” She didn’t bother to finish the sentence, striding out without deigning to make eye contact with either of them.

It made Parrish frown as he called after her but it made Stiles grin, staring at his shoes and biting down on his lip to keep it from going deranged.

Which led to him missing Parrish taking a step closer and reaching for his chin.  He had a thumb and forefinger on Stiles’ jaw before he could even flail back a step.  “That’s going to bruise,” Parrish noted.

Stiles pulled away, said casually, “It’s nothing.”  He tried to smile properly but it made the sore muscles twinge slightly.  “Doesn’t even hurt.”

Parrish raised his brows knowingly.  “You know that’s a lie when you wince saying it.”  He placed a hand on his duty belt, jerked his chin towards the door and carefully didn’t look at Brunski’s bloody face as he suggested leaving the basement.  “Here, come on, I know where they keep the pills in this place.” 

Stiles snorted, shaking his head.  “I can’t afford them,” he patted Parrish on the shoulder in condescending fashion, clicking his tongue, “and neither can you.”  Anyone else – Scott aside – and he never would have said it so readily but Parrish knew what his dad made, was victim of the same shit pay so there was no reason to play the pride card.  He didn’t look at Brunski’s face either, didn’t like that he thought it might feel  _good_  to see it, and left Eichen House for what he hoped was the last time.

Parrish caught up to him in the parking lot.  He was somewhat out of breath and shoved something into Stiles’ chest. 

Stiles huffed out a laugh, holding out the pill bottle in front of him so he could get a look at it.  He shook it so it rattled.  “Did you steal them?”

Parrish’s cheeks went a ruddy red.  “I splurged,” he said with  _bad_  nonchalance.  This guy did not have a poker face.  His poker face was, ‘take my money, oh, and I’ve got a five in my shoe you missed.’  It was weirdly refreshing. 

Stiles curled his fingers around the bottle, pointed at Parrish with it.  “ _You_ are a boy scout.”  It was almost an accusation.

Parrish seemed to pick up on that and shrugged it off with a smile.  “There are worse things to be.”  He glanced away, laughed in supremely unamused fashion.  “Like whatever the hell I actually am.”

Stiles cocked an eyebrow, squinted and decided, “You don’t seem very evil to me.”

Parrish licked his lip, stepped closer like he was sharing a secret.  “Do you really think Meredith is?”

Stiles shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I think that kind of stuff, the dark stuff, happening to someone, it can change them.  The way Lydia told it, her grandmother basically put Meredith through torture-lite and that, yeah, that changes you.”

Parrish watched him carefully while he spoke, like a cop, gauging, looking for muscle tics and the position of his eyes.  “If I can survive being set on fire and still be a boy scout,” he said in a low tone, a serious tone, “then I say that stuff, it doesn’t  _have_  to change you.”

Stiles couldn’t help the way his lips twitched up slightly.  It was reassuring, that Parrish could read what he wasn’t saying, because it meant he was a good deputy.  It meant Stiles could depend on him to watch his dad’s back.  That didn’t mean Stiles wasn’t going to give him a hard time about it though, because he’d sussed out something personal and Stiles was never going to make that an easy thing.  “Well, you did punch Haigh in the face right after that,” Stiles pointed out with a smug grin.  “And got my dad shot.”

Parrish laughed, running his tongue over his upper teeth.  “I was waiting for that one to come up.  That was an accident, and engineered  _mostly_  by Haigh pulling his weapon on me.  Not that I’m sure it would have done much of anything anyway, what with the whole ‘surviving fiery deaths’ number I’ve perfected.  Did I mention that part, and how  _no one_  seems to know what I  _am_?”

Parrish was actually… he was freaked.  He did a good job of hiding it, of finding his cop mentality and solving the problem directly in front of him before moving on to the next but this had him totally spooked.  Stiles had given something away and Parrish had done the same, probably on purpose.  Because he was just that guy.  That guy who was unselfishly  _good_  simply because he was wired that way. 

Stiles moved into his space, furrowed his brow and said simply, “You’re a boy scout, Parrish.”  He smirked.  “I already figured it out, that’s kind of my thing.  Solving circles around you.”

Parrish met his eyes straight on and swallowed.  “Whatever you think changed you,” he said, “don’t be so sure it was for the worse.”  Stiles had thought he wouldn’t address that so blatantly, that he would let Stiles cling to the illusion that Parrish had thought he was talking about Meredith.  But he crushed that.  “Yeah, I figured out who that little speech was about because I’m solving… parallelograms around you.”  He grimaced a bit, embarrassed, at that.

Stiles grinned widely.  “That was pathetic, that was contrived so you could use the word ‘parallelogram’ for the first time since your high school geometry course, that was—”

Parrish kissed him before he could tell him what else it was.  His lower lip pressed against Stiles’ teeth but his upper sealed over Stiles’ own and pulled it into his mouth and it was a really,  _really_  good kiss, surprise that it was.  Made it easy for Stiles to find the fit of their mouths, to kiss  _back_ , to slide his hand around Parrish’s neck and pull him in.

But Parrish was all goody-two-shoes and dragged his mouth away just as it was getting good (read: tongue-y).  He stayed close though, enough that Stiles could feel hot breath against his slick lips, and he said through a smile, “I like you.  And I’m a boy scout,” he reminded.  “So you can’t be all bad.”

“Keeping you,  _so_ keeping you,” Stiles said with a breathless laugh, letting their lips drag together more than was strictly necessary (read: not at all necessary).  “Very good for the self-esteem and, for all we know, also very good for the skin.”  He patted Parrish’s cheek. 

Parrish snorted and said with more sarcasm than Stiles thought his boy-scout-brain was capable of: “Let’s bank on that.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [tumblr](http://wellhalesbells.tumblr.com/). For reasons unknown. ~~I obviously occasionally lean hard on my followers so only sign up if you're ready to be squeezed of all your thinky juices - I need them more than you!~~


End file.
